“Apparently not,” I whisper, the disbelief still thick in my voice. Then, with a small, incredulous laugh, I add, “They’re really taking this best friend confidentiality thing way too seriously.”

Adam huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

His breath warms my cheek as his hands move from my waist to my jaw, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

“I’d kiss you…if you weren’t so drunk,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out.

“I’m not,” he says, quiet but sure, like it’s the simplest truth.

I watch his face, memorizing everything—the way his expression softens, the way his thumb brushes my cheek as if he’s reassuring himself I’m really here.

“You’d have to pass a breathalyzer first,” I tease, my lips trembling into a nervous smile. “I can’t spend another four years regretting this.”

Adam chuckles, and my breath catches. His eyes are deep and dark, like a green abyss, and it hits me—that’s what desire looks like.

His forehead rests lightly against mine, and we just breathe together. Then his hand shifts, his fingers threading into my hair as he leans in, stopping just before our lips touch. His nose nudges the side of my cheek, and I shiver at the touch. He’s so close it makes me dizzy, but still—he waits, like this choice has always been mine.

My heart twists, undone by the tenderness and longing in his eyes. There’s no hesitation. No fear.

So I close my eyes, rise onto my toes, and press my lips to his.

His lips meet mine softly, testing, almost cautious. His fingers slide deeper into my hair, holding me steady, but his touch stays light; he’s giving me space to pull away if I want to.

I don’t.

Adam presses me back until the counter digs into my lower back, his body flush against mine. His mouth claims me again, deeper this time—his tongue sweeping against mine, hot and insistent. A low moan slips out of me as heat shoots straight to my cock.

Adam’s hands slide down, gripping my ass and squeezing, and I shudder at the pressure, my body arching into his. His leg shifts between mine, pressing higher, spreading me open. For a moment, I panic—he’s going to feel how hard I am.

I start to pull back, but Adam’s grip tightens as he pulls me in, closing the distance until there’s no space left. Our denim-clad cocks press together, the friction sharp and dizzying. We both gasp and freeze at the contact.

Our eyes meet, breath ragged, faces flushed. Then, slowly, we break into grins—stupid, breathless, and full of disbelief.

Four years of pent-up desire surge through me, drowning out everything else. My hand drifts from his neck, sliding down between us until it presses against the denim covering his cock.

Adam’s breath stutters against my lips, a sharp exhale that deepens into a low, ragged sound. His body tenses as I rub him, the hardness straining against the fabric.

“Fuck...” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to mine, his words rough and uneven.

He shudders and catches my lower lip between his teeth, a soft bite that makes me dizzy.

“You want to take this upstairs?” he murmurs, his voice thick with want.

“Yes,” I blurt out, but then I hesitate. “You’re sure you’re not drunk?”

Adam chuckles again, a low, warm sound that sends a hum across my skin.

“Only a little,” he admits, his grin teasing. “But I’m very much in control, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good,” I murmur, tugging him in for another kiss. I keep it slow, savoring the press of his mouth against mine before finally pulling back, my forehead resting lightly against his.

“Do you…have condoms?”

Adam shakes his head, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

“I’ll ask Peter.”

“Oh god,” I groan, my face burning as I watch him pull out his phone and type a quick message.